It was a good day when I wrote a neat sentence for the teacher,
on a good day when my pen did not scratch or blotch
the paper, on which I wrote my answer to the schoolwork
on the board.
I felt the beginning of my manhood here and very proud
of myself.
I let it be known to all who wish
to know that I was doing very well indeed in penmanship.
I read my handwriting now.
I read my handwriting now after a few days away from it
and swear I must be in a dreadful frame of mind.
Left to myself to praise my own and weary of it.
Learning from the indifference of others
to feel myself at one with them by being
indifferent to oneself.
We make a negative community, passing each other
in the street as if retreating from contact
and hurrying to the other side where the truth waits.